


A Place in Time

by Morganza



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Enchanted Forest, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Pre-Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-08 20:10:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14701314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morganza/pseuds/Morganza
Summary: Seventeen year old Emma Swan runs away from her foster family in Boston.  Haphazardly she ends up in Storybooke Maine where she finds herself at odds with the Mayor.  Regina realizes the Savior has found her and in an effort to get rid of her, the Mayor opens a portal to the now abandoned Enchanted Forest.  But something goes wrong and Emma winds up in the past, where Regina is still married to King Leopald.  Can Regina get Emma back before she changes the course of their entire future?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so I picked this up as a prompt and changed it a little bit. The premise of the prompt was as follows;
> 
> Emma gets caught stealing something at the castle and 16 year old Snow feels bad for her, encouraging her father to take Emma in. Emma is attracted to Regina and vice versa. But the two women are at odds and do their best to avoid one another. The King begins to take a perverted intrust in Emma and Regina steps in to save her.
> 
> So, this story won't follow that to an exact T, but it will/should follow pretty close. I love to hear what you guys think and hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for reading!

Emma gasped. The air in her lungs expelling as her back slammed against cold stone. Blonde hair splayed out from under the black beanie. The girl choked, trying to breathe, lashes fluttered; disorientated, as her mind raced to grasp the foreign surroundings.

The row house on Allan Street?

Mr. and Mrs. Davis, mid 40’s, two children of their own. Harmlessly eccentric. Mrs. Davis organized an urban garden where they grew vegetables. Mr. Davis played that weird guitar.

_Zither._

The house on Allan had wooden floors, not stone. And Mr. and Mrs. Davis got a divorce.

_No. Not the Davis’. That was two years ago. That was before…_

Emma rolled to her side, using her hands to push herself upright. The room teetered and blurred, making her stomach turn.

_The Tudor on Newbury?_

The Mitchell’s. Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell; Brad and Donna as they had told Emma to call them. Their perfect, white smiles almost blinding. Donna was a button nosed, bubbly former beauty queen. She worked as a medical representative and traveled a lot. Brad, was a surgeon. Handsome, successful, respected. They lived in a upscale neighborhood and had a sprawling backyard with an oak tree and a tire swing. It was the type of backyard made for barbecues. The Mitchell’s were the perfect American couple. Emma’s social worker had told her she was so lucky they were giving her a chance.

Emma heaved, tasting the bile in her throat.

_Don’t make a mess on the floor, Swan. Whatever’s going on, you’ll have it so much worse if you barf all over their floor._

Every muscle ached and the room wouldn’t stop spinning. The blonde didn’t want to move, didn’t even know if she could. But survival took over, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Emma stood; trying to plant her wobbling legs.

_What time is it? He’s going to be home soon. Jesus. Is Donna out of town?_

Emma reached out in an attempt to steady herself. Her hand found Donna’s dressing table.

_What am I doing in their bedroom?_

The blonde blinked, then closed her eyes, inhaling. Emma counted to three before opening her eyes again. The room blurred, creating doubles as it almost seemed to pulsate. She tried to concentrate; honing in on the floor lamp in the corner. If she could just get one thing to stop spinning, maybe the rest would follow suit. Finally, her eyes focused on the object.

“What the hell..?” She whispered to herself.

The floor lamp was in fact no floor lamp at all.

_A candelabra? A candelabra isn’t contemporary colonial._

Relief briefly washed over Emma. This wasn’t the Mitchell’s, and the doctor wouldn’t be here anytime soon.

Her brow wrinkled, sweat gathering in the creases. She had left Boston. Ran away. It had taken two months to devise the plan, and even then, it had been haphazard at best. Emma had figured out the pin to the Mitchell’s bank card, waiting until the good doctor was too inebriated to hear her sneak away with it in the middle of the night. She wasn’t dumb; she knew the police would be able to track her if she kept the card. Instead, she withdrew five hundred dollars; crossing her fingers and praying to any God that might listen to her.

At first, she thought maybe it worked. Maybe there was some higher being finally taking notice of her. She took a bus into the city, and after an hour or so of hitting back alleys, Emma happened upon a lonely little Volkswagen. It was never the plan to steal a car; that was too risky. But there was something about it she identified with. Maybe it was the sad way it sat on the side of the road, sticking out like a sore thumb among the other cars. They were misfits.

Emma tried the door, just for fun. She had never expected it to be unlocked. But it had been, which meant she might as well sit inside of it. Once inside she flipped the visor. Of course, she didn’t think anyone would have left the keys. This was downtown Boston after all. But a set of silver keys fell into Emma’s lap. She had laughed at the analogy, feeling giddy. When she put the keys in the ignition she was sure the engine would sputter, refusing to turn over. To her surprise the bug roared, coming to life.

“God helps those that help themselves.” She had nodded up to the sky. Emma had left the Mitchell’s that night.

_Then… Where am I?_

Emma teetered forward; falling against the dresser. A flash of light burning behind her eyes, her head suddenly throbbing. She heard the clatter of something breaking. It sounded like plates, but that didn’t seem right. Emma closed her eyes, her nausea back at full force.

There was a gasp, but Emma didn’t think it was her own. It sounded far off, but she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything. She forced herself to turn around, still gripping the dressing table. She pressed her back against it for added support. Another clatter. Emma looked down; broken pieces of porcelain gathered around her high-top converse.

“What. Are. You. Doing?”

Emma knew that voice. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she did. It wasn’t Donna’s. Or Mrs. Davis. It wasn’t her social worker’s, or any of the numerous foster mothers she had lived with over the years.

“Your Queen asked you a question!” The familiar voice rang out sharply.

Queen?

The blonde raised her head. The room reeled as she tried to bring the source of the voice into focus. She made out blurred dark features, long black hair cascaded over a shoulder. Emma squinted. Like the voice, the form in front of her was oddly familiar. She chanced a step forward; losing her footing. Wincing, the girl threw her hands in front; ready to catch her fall.

“Not another step!” The husky voice demanded.

Emma tensed, waiting to hit the hard stone of the floor. It never came. She tried to move but found herself immobile. Her stomach flopped, turning over and threatening to expel what little contents it held.

“Who are you, and what are you doing in my bedchamber?” The voice sounded closer, steps clicking on the stone.

_That’s an excellent question._

The blonde struggled to move. An icy chill squeezed, pinning her in place. Emma couldn’t quite feel the ground beneath her feet, the sense of weightlessness only inspiring her stomach to rebel further.

_I’m floating. I’m floating and I can’t move._

No. That wasn’t right. Emma told herself it couldn’t be right. Something was obviously wrong with her. But that was the least of her problems. She was in some strange woman’s bedroom. A strange woman that she knew from somewhere. Where?

_Maine._

That’s right. Emma knew that at least was correct. She had made it out of Boston. Taking back roads when she could, switching out the plates on the bug at a rest stop. At first she meandered without a destination in mind; hiding amongst the traffic. But then… Then she drove with a purpose. She wanted to go there.

_Why?_

The girl couldn’t answer that. She wasn’t sure she ever could. It certainly wasn’t a craving for lobster or maple syrup. And it definitely wasn’t some desperate attempt to find…

_Them._

No. She refused to even call those people parents. Emma didn’t have parents. Never did, and never would. And that was fine. Okay, maybe it wasn’t fine. But it was what it was.

The phantom restraints tightened around her aching body, bringing her back to the present. It didn’t really matter how she ended up here.

_Wherever here is…_

Something told Emma here was not Maine. But that wasn’t important. At least not in this moment. What was important was she couldn’t move and some angry woman that she knew, but didn’t know, was yelling at her. Who cares about Maine?

“I.. I don’t know..” Emma croaked out, opening her eyes and praying for the room to stop tilting.

The woman pursed her lips, smoldering dark eyes narrowed. For the first time Emma noticed the woman’s odd garb. A floor length brocade gown. She looked like something out of the renaissance.

“You don’t know who you are?” The stranger stepped closer. Leaning in, a flash of panic in her eyes. Did Rumple send you?” A whispered hiss.

Emma’s brow creased, out of instinct she tried to shake her head.

_Rumple?_

“Like… Rumplestilskin?”

“Don’t play coy with me, dear.” The woman warned, an angry line forming down her otherwise smooth forehead as she became more agitated.

Emma’s eyes widened, the last couple days coming back to her. She did know this woman.

 

 _Emma had been in Maine for about two hours when the bug started to sputter. The gauges on the dash spinning as the car swerved and the headlights dimmed before shutting off completely. She nearly ran off the pavement before catching the wheel; maneuvering the vehicle off to the shoulder. It seemed as if it had gained consciousness, acting on its own accord. Emma pushed firmly on the brake, shifting the malfunctioning car into park before wiping sweaty palms against her denim clad thighs. It was a close call_.

My whole life is one huge close call.

_Emma exhaled, running a shaky hand through her unkempt hair. Green eyes squinted at the distance in front of her. Moments ago there seemed to be only darkness ahead, but now the faint twinkling of lights glowed in the distance. The blonde picked up a wrinkled map that had fallen to the floor board. She could have sworn she saw a town sign just before the bug decided to go Maximum Overdrive on her, but the map didn’t indicate anything of that nature. There shouldn’t have been a town for at least another fifty miles._

If you’re even following the map correctly.

_She sighed. There was a good possibility that she was completely lost. Emma bit her lip, getting out of the car was dangerous; it would surely cause attention if anyone were to see her, but sitting in the car was just as problematic. The last thing she wanted was to appear suspicious and alert the attention of local law enforcement. Just as Emma decided she would have to hoof it towards what she could only hope was a town, the bug’s headlights flashed back on._

_“What the hell…?”_

_Emma raised her brow, palms hovering over the steering wheel as she stared at the dash._

Of course, I’d end up stealing the one possessed car on all of the east coast. Way to go Swan.

 _Until now, the bug hadn’t exhibited any mechanical problems. Sure, it might look a little worse for the wear, but it had been a real trooper since Boston. Emma brought her hands onto the steering whe_ el, hoping the long drive was to blame.

_“Don’t self destruct on me now, we only have a little longer and you can rest for the night.”_

_Holding her breath, she shifted into drive, pulling back onto the road. Maybe it was her near death experience, or something else entirely, but Emma suddenly realized the bug wasn’t the only one wore out. She supposed it was a happy accident that she got lost and happened upon the town._

_The forest on either side of the road began to grow less dense as the blonde neared the town; quaint craftsman style houses with picket fences taking its place. Emma spotted a sign; Main Street._

How curious.

_The blonde turned down the road, driving towards the main source of lights. It was a small strip of brick buildings pressed against one another. Most of the shops appeared to be closed for the night. Emma surveyed her options. Tucked back from the main thoroughfare there appeared to be what she assumed was a bar. The Rabbit Hole, a small sign hung over a single door._

Definitely not Swan. You don’t need anymore trouble.

_No, as fun as the name might indicate, the last thing Emma needed was to draw attention to herself. Shaking her head, she moved on. Lights glowed from the window of an odd looking antique store. Gold’s Pawn Shop. Emma shivered, a tingle running down her spine. She inched the bug past the building, spying a few cars parked on the side of the road ahead of her. A retro neon sign hung above; Granny’s Diner. A red arrow flashed, pointing towards a small house seemingly converted into a restaurant. The blonde pulled to the side, parking behind an old model truck._

_This was good. A little diner where she could get something cheap to eat and stay off the radar. Maybe she’d be lucky and figure out where she was exactly._

_Emma pushed open the door to the small café causing a chime to ring overhead. The blonde froze, her skin reddening as every head in the restaurant turned towards her. Conversations seemed to cease as she made her way to a booth in the back corner. Emma couldn’t reach her table fast enough; moving in a slow, underwater fashion. The action took on an odd dream like quality._

First a possessed car, now this. Maybe I’ve entered the twilight zone.

_“Hey! How are you?”_

_Emma had barely sat down before she heard the bubbly voice next to her. Tilting her head, eyebrows raised as green eyes found the source of the slightly too enthusiastic welcome. To her relief the waitress looked to be around her age, maybe a little older. The girl had long auburn hair and what little she wore was very short and very tight; her ample cleavage spilling out the top of a low cut blouse._

And everyone is staring at me?

_“Um…”_

_“Oh, don’t let them bother you.” The girl seemed to sense Emma’s discomfort, nodding her head towards the rest of the patrons. “We just don’t get very many new people.” The waitress paused tapping the end of her pen to wide red lips. “Actually, we don’t get any new people! You’re the most excitement we’ve had since… while since I can remember!”_

_Emma nodded, unsure how to respond. “Yeah, I kind of happened upon this place by accident myself.” She laughed half heartedly, flashing a sliver of perfect white teeth._

_"That makes sense. I don’t know why someone would come here on purpose.” The dark-haired girl snickered, rolling her eyes. “I’m Ruby by the way.”_

_“Emma.” The blonde smiled, her shoulders relaxing against the back of the booth._

_“Nice to meet you.” Ruby paused; staring at the blonde, then laughed, shaking her head. “Sorry, you want something to drink?” She smiled, placing a menu on the table top._

_“Uh.. yeah.” Emma glided her fingers over the menu, flipping to the back. “Can I get a hot chocolate with cinnamon?”_

_“Weird. But, yeah sure.” The brunette shrugged before turning away._

_Emma was halfway through her grilled cheese and onion rings before she started to slow down. Her hunger was sated, but she hadn’t a plan for the night. She had enough cash for the meal, but definitely not enough to get a room for the night. Had the town been larger she would have parked her car somewhere and slept in the bug, but that seemed risky here. A young girl sleeping in her was sure to be noticed in such a small town. Continuing to push her food around was a way to more or less buy some time._

_“So, what did you say you were doing here?” Ruby interrupted, taking a seat opposite the blonde._

_Emma swirled an onion ring through the smear of ketchup on her plate._

I didn’t say.

_The waitress seemed nice enough, but Emma had learned very early on that looks could be deceiving. She didn’t necessarily mind her company, but she wasn’t about to jeopardize her freedom._

_“I’m on my way to my Grandmother’s. I just took a wrong turn and ended up here.”_

Really, Swan? Your Grandmother’s? Lame.

_“How much longer is your drive?” Ruby seemed to take the information at face value._

_Emma sighed. The problem with lying was that you couldn’t simply tell one lie. You had to continue lying to cover up for the first lie. She usually didn’t have a problem thinking fast; a skill she had learned quickly. But, tonight she was tired, both physically and mentally. It felt like a lot of work._

_“I… I’m actually not sure. Where am I anyway?”_

_“You’re in Storybrooke. The most boring town in the eastern seaboard.”_

“I know who you are.” Emma said more to herself than to the woman.

“As you should. But the question still begs, who are you?” The dark haired woman waved her hand, causing Emma to cry out as the unseen bonds restricted her lungs. She was sure the woman was going to kill her, or at least make her wish she was dead.

Suddenly Emma was on the ground, her hands and knees burning from the fall. She looked up, the room coming into focus.

“I heard a commotion!” A teenage girl burst into the room, running up to the Queen.

_The Mayor._

“Call for the guards, Snow! We have an intruder.”

Emma watched as the girl ignored the woman’s command, walking closer. She knew that her too. Sort of.

_The school teacher._

“Mary Margaret?”

The younger brunette stared at her, tilting her head towards the other woman. Her nose wrinkled.

“What’s wrong with her?”

The girl’s question was the last thing Emma heard. Blinking as the room grew darker. The two women appearing to be in an ever-shrinking vignette until there was only darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

 

 

_Emma yawned, squinting at the morning light peeking in through the sheer drapes. She stretched, arching her back and raising her arms above the mess of blonde hair surrounding her. The bed may have been old, squeaking with each movement, but it was a luxury compared to the cramped backseat of the bug. Comfort aside, the room had provided a piece of mind the Volkswagen couldn’t compete with. At least for a few hours Emma had the reprieve of safety. No cops to worry about spotting her, no looters to fight off. It was the best night’s sleep she had gotten since her first week at the Mitchell’s. She had been pretty lucky to get the room._

Pretty lucky? You’ve been on a fucking winning streak, Swan.

_It was true. She had escaped from the Mitchell’s unscathed._

Mostly unscathed.

_The blonde’s brow creased, her nose wrinkling at the thought._

It could have been worse. You’ve seen girls that had it way worse.

_It was sad, but true. She had met more girls than she cared to count that had endured worse than the Doctor. Statistics weren’t on her side. She should consider herself lucky it hadn’t been worse._

He had wanted to do worse.

_But he didn’t . Emma had made sure of that. She had fixed the problem, because God knows, no one else was going to fix it. No one was going to believe her over such an upstanding man. A Goddamn pillar of the community._

Stop being a baby. Crying about this isn’t going to change anything. You’re fine.

_“I’m fine.” The words filled the empty room. Emma groaned, tossing the sheets, she headed towards the bathroom. It was better not to think about these things._

_The blonde shook her head. Turning the knobs to the shower, she refused to let herself cry about it. She was making a big deal out of nothing. Yeah, it sucked, but whatever._

_She had gotten away, gotten out of Boston. There was no sense in starting to think on all of the rights and wrongs of the world now. Besides, there were more important things to think about._

_Emma had caught a break last night. Ruby, overcome with excitement; had convinced her grandmother to give up the small bedroom for nearly nothing. But that wasn’t something that would last forever. Even though Emma had been thrifty, the five hundred dollars she had helped herself to was already down to $375. At this rate she would be broke in less than two weeks. She needed to buckle down and come up with a plan._

_Wrapping a towel around her, Emma padded back into the bedroom; leaving wet foot prints on the wooden floor. Despite everything, the blonde felt a resurgence of motivation as she rifled through her backpack. The shower had helped. So had focusing on her survival._

No time to start getting soft, Swan.

_Emma pulled a white T-shirt over her head, her hair leaving water lines where the damp curls met the fabric. She picked up the crumpled jeans from beside her bed, slipping them over her hips. Maybe she could talk to Ruby and do some laundry. She looked around the room for her sneakers; haphazardly tossed from the night before._

_Talking to Ruby wasn’t such a bad idea. The waitress seemed nice enough. Maybe she could help her find something under the table to earn a little money. Something where there wouldn’t be too many questions asked._

You’re really thinking about staying here?

_Why not? The girl argued with herself. It was a sleepy little town, out of the way from everything. It could be a safe place to hide out for the next couple months._

It could be dangerous.

_Yeah, well so could the city. At least here she might be able to work something out and stay at the Inn. It wasn’t like she had a place or people waiting for her. It was worth a try._

_As if on cue, the blonde’s stomach growled. The half of a grilled cheese and a few onion rings, long burned off by now. Emma spotted a clock in the corner; 9:45. She hoped the breakfast rush had died down by now, giving her a chance to talk with Ruby._

Yeah, and hopefully less people to gawk at me when I walk in.

_The blonde was relieved not to have a repeat of the previous night. There was still a decent amount of people at the diner, but everyone seemed too engaged to notice her. Well, mostly everyone._

_“Hey! Cool Jacket!” Ruby called, coming around the counter with several plates in her arms._

_“Thanks.” Emma mumbled, pulling the red leather jacket a little tighter around her._

_“Are you, Emma?” A woman’s voiced asked as she towards the counter._

Are you kidding me?

_The blonde turned, finding a woman sitting by herself at a small table._

_“I’m sorry.” The woman dabbed her lips with a napkin. Emma guessed she was in her late 20’s maybe early 30’s. Short brunette hair framed a cherub like face with perfect porcelain skin._

_“That was rude of me, and I didn’t mean to startle you. Ruby’s just been talking about this mysterious traveler all morning, I had to meet her for myself.” The brunette offered a small smile, her eyes soft._

_Emma prided herself on reading smiles. Something she had learned quickly. Every foster she had lived with we’re all smiles and perfection at the front door. Very few carried them once she walked in. It was easy for anyone to do, meaning it was something else entirely. This woman meant it._

_“I guess you guys don’t get many people passing through?” The blonde took a seat at the counter, remaining close enough for easy conversation with the woman._

_“We don’t.” The brunette brought her mug to her pink lips, taking a sip. “I’m Mary Margaret, by the way.”_

_“Em… er… I guess you already know my name.” Emma fumbled._

This is weird. She’s nice, but it’s weird.

_“So what are you doing in Storybrooke?” Mary Margaret asked, her eyes still smiling._

_Emma cleared her throat. The lie was so lame, she didn’t want to repeat it, but she couldn’t change her story now. Chances were, Ruby had already told the woman._

_“So, you’re the girl that swindled me out of a living wage last night?” An elderly woman with pinned up wiry hair and a no nonsense demeanor interrupted._

_The blonde turned, eyes wide as she faced the woman behind the counter. The woman peered over her glasses, her features motionless._

Great job, Swan. You haven’t even met this lady yet, and you’ve already pissed her off. You’re supposed to be laying low.

_“I’m…I’m sorry. Ruby said it was okay with you.” Emma tried to explain. The last thing she needed was trouble._

_“No need to apologize. It was worth it to have one night off from hearing my granddaughter moan about how boring her life is.”_

_The blonde sighed; relieved she hadn’t caused any problems. “I’m guessing you’re…Granny?” The name didn’t exactly roll off Emma’s tongue._

_“One and only.” The older woman produced a towel, wiping the counter off. “You having something to eat? By the looks of you I certainly hope so. I don’t understand you girls, trying to stay so thin.”_

_Emma blushed. Trying to stay thin had never been on her agenda. It was hard to gain weight when food was scarce. Or, in the case of her most recent home, every calorie you consumed was scrutinized._

_Donna was obsessed with her own figure; trying to hold onto her glory days. Emma had wondered at first why the Mitchell’s had chosen her from the group home. Couples usually wanted young children, not troubled teens about to phase out of the system. It only took a few days of living at the house on Newbury to figure it out. Mrs. Mitchell wanted a show pony. A way to vicariously live out the youth that had slipped through her fingers. Donna hadn’t the time to devote to a younger child, nor the patience. It wasn’t even a week before she had enrolled Emma in her first pageant._

_“I’ll have the pancakes.” The blonde said, knowing better than trying to explain any of this to the woman._

_Granny nodded, seemingly satisfied with the choice._

_Emma turned back to the brunette, waiting until the older woman walked away. “She’s kinda gruff, isn’t she?”_

_Mary Margaret laughed. A soft, warm hearted sound. “Don’t let her scare you. She’s a well meaning old lady. Maybe a little rough around the edges, but she’s good people.”_

_Conversation ensued while the blonde waited for her food. Every few minutes Ruby would walk by, giving her two cents, or to educate Emma on a brief history of one of the patrons. Mary Margaret talked about the upcoming school year, and some of the plans she had for her class. Ruby complained about the lack of eligible bachelors in the town._

_Small talk was something Emma seldom felt comfortable with. It felt often felt awkward or forced. It felt fake. But somehow she found herself engaged in the conversations. She might even dare to say she was enjoying it._

Don’t get attached, Swan.

_She wouldn’t. She couldn’t risk that. It had been a warning she didn’t need for quite sometime. And she still didn’t. She was merely being polite and trying to fit in._

You’re enjoying it too much.

_Perhaps that was true. She hadn’t been in the town for even a full day yet. Emma knew better than trying to form bonds even after weeks or months._

_Changing schools and neighborhoods was a constant in her young life. Foster families came and went. Some where good, some where tolerable, and some were… well, some weren’t. Life consisted of a continuous shifting of rooms and backyards. Even the group home had a proverbial revolving door._

_The last time she cried for a foster family she was twelve years old. Old being the keyword. Old enough to understand this was her last chance. Young enough to have hoped for more. Like every lesson, Emma had learned that one the hard way._

  _The pancakes couldn’t have arrived soon enough. It gave the girl something to do other than talk. And besides that, they were delicious. Perfectly round, fluffy, and golden brown. They didn’t even need syrup. Of course that didn’t stop Emma from covering the two stacks in the sticky liquid._

_Preoccupied with the sugary meal, Emma never heard the chime ring as the door opened. Nor did she notice the presence of someone standing next to her. A very perturbed presence. It was only when she looked up and noticed Ruby’s expression that she realized something was off. The waitress bit the corner of her bottom lip, eyes wide as she stared just passed the blonde. A disgruntled clearing of the throat sounded above her. Slowly, fork still in hand, half a pancake lodged in her cheek, Emma turned around._

_Cool, dark eyes penetrated the blonde. Catlike as they took silent inventory of the girl. The woman stood ridged, arms crossed at her chest. Deep chestnut hair styled in a layered bob, one side tucked behind her ear. Full, scarlet lips turned upwards. There was no mistaking the expression for a smile._

It’s a warning.

_Emma forced herself to swallow the bite of pancake still in her mouth. What was perfect moments ago, now turned her stomach. A little too fluffy. A little too sweet._

_She was beautiful in a way Donna could never have dreamed of being. It was more than aesthetics. An animal magnetism, a force that drew one in. Something darkly seductive._

_“You must be new to Storybrooke.” The woman’s voice was rich and husky. “I know everyone in this town,” she tilted her head to the side. “But, I don’t believe I know you.”_

_Emma licked parched lips, trying to find her voice._

Get it together, Swan.

_She shifted in her seat. “…Emma.” The blonde wasn’t sure whose voice that was, but it didn’t sound like her own. At least not one she had used in a very long time. It was too accommodating, too eager to please._

_The woman raised her brows expectantly, as if trying to coax a child to the correct response._

_For reasons beyond her control she tried again. Because it mattered. Because she cared if it pleased the woman. Because the part of her in charge of surviving told her she better care. “Emma… Swan?”_

_The older woman widened plump lips; exposing pearl white teeth. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Swan.”_

Liar.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Consciousness crept over the blonde. At first it was the muffled sound of conversation, spoken as if underwater. Unfamiliar voices she couldn’t make out. Emma wrinkled her brow, not daring to open her eyes just yet. Her head throbbed.

_Where am I?_

Memories flooded her scrambled mind.

_The candelabra. The Mayor. No. The… Queen?_

The voices slowly became sharper. There were two. Both female. One older and foreign to the girl. The other… the other was just out of her grasp.

“Is she going to be alright?” Emma heard the younger of the two ask.

_Mary Margaret._

The other voice spoke. “Only time will tell, Princess. She’s been hit with some very dark magic.”

_No. You couldn’t have heard that right._

It hurt to move, even opening her eyes was a struggle. But Emma needed answers. She couldn’t continue to lay there listening to none-sense.

Emma winced as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Her head ached, and every muscle felt worn, but she was grateful the dizziness had disappeared. Finally able to survey her surroundings she studied the quarters.

She couldn’t be sure, but Emma didn’t believe she was in the same room as before. To be honest, she couldn’t be sure of anything. The walls were made of large grey stones, unlike anything she had seen outside of a movie. There were no lights or lamps, but a large candle chandelier hung from the ceiling. Then again, perhaps it was decorative. Maybe it’s one of those chandeliers that’s just supposed to look like candles.

_Get for real. You know it’s not._

Emma knew it wasn’t true. There was something weird going on. There was something weird about this whole place.

“She’s awake!” The girl exclaimed practically bursting with excitement; her bright features animated. The skirt of her gown swished across the stone floor as she hurried to the side of the large bed. On closer inspection Emma thought perhaps she wasn’t Mary Margaret. Not the version she knew at least. This girl was younger, maybe her own age. The school teacher had a short pixie cut, this girl’s was waist length. Still, the resemblance was uncanny.

“Careful not to crowd her,” the older woman warned patiently. Her voice soft and melodic, honey blonde hair pulled into a Dutch braid.

The girl took a cautious step back. “How are you feeling?” Her voice at a more reasonable pitch.

“I’m…” Emma looked around the room.

_How am I feeling?_

It seemed like an idiotic question.

“I’m not sure..” she pulled the heavy blankets to her chest.

“You’re confused, aren’t you, dear?” The older woman asked, carrying a clay mug as she joined the girl that wasn’t Mary Margaret.

_At least she gets it._

Emma nodded, wincing at the pain in her head.

“Here,” The woman offered the mug. “Drink this.”

Emma inspected the thick dark liquid. Steam rising from the top as she took a whiff. “What is it?”

It smelled like honey and chamomile, with a spicy, sweet hint.

“It’s just a little remedy I learned from my grandmother. It will help your head and soothe your stomach. I’m guessing you feel a tad squeamish.”

“Yeah, actually I do.” She dared a sip as both women watched eagerly. She doubted it could make things worse. The concoction went down easily. Smooth and soft like velvet, it coated her agitated stomach.

“Where… where am I?” Emma couldn’t avoid the elephant in the room any longer.

Not Mary Margaret tilted her head, pouting her lips as her forehead wrinkled. “You’re… in the Palace.”

_Palace? Like a castle?_

Emma assumed the girl didn’t mean Cesar’s Palace. Never mind that she was a long way from Vegas. Although, that would almost make more sense than what was being proposed.

“What Palace?”

“King Leopald’s of course.”The dark haired girl smiled, speaking as if that answered everything. As if there was no question. She stared at Emma, her eyes clear and bright.

The older woman leaned forward, raising her hand to Emma’s brow.

“Easy.” She soothed when the blonde flinched. “I just want to see if you’re running a fever. You feel alright. Maybe a little warm.”

Emma shrunk away from the older woman, uncomfortable with the attention. She wasn’t used to being mothered and tended to. It was unsettling to receive it now. In fact, this whole situation was unsettling.

“Who’s King Leopold?”

The brunette raised her brows as if something highly unbelievable or inappropriate had been uttered. “You really don’t know?”

“I don’t think she’s from…here, Princess. Look at her clothes.” 

Emma’s nostrils flared, tiring of the circles this conversation was going in. “Where is here?”

“You’re in the Enchanted Forest, dear.”

“The... What?” Emma shook her head.  She couldn’t have heard the woman correctly.

_The Enchanted Forest? Like the land of fairytales?_

No.  That couldn’t be right.

_Maybe I’m asleep. Or dead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all continue to enjoy this story, I’m having a blast writing it! I LOVE LOVE LOVE to hear what you think, and it helps me figure out what to write next! So please review or comment! Hopefully I’ll have another chapter next week!


	3. Chapter 3

The girl that held an uncanny resemblance to Mary Margaret repeated herself, speaking slowly. “You’re. In. The. Enchanted. Forest.”

 

_I’m not deaf._

Emma tightened her hold on the blanket; suppressing the urge to yell at the girl.  She wanted to tell her she heard her, understood her the first time she made the ridiculous statement.  But that probably wasn’t wise. 

 

“So that would make you…who? Sleeping Beauty?” She chose sarcasm instead.

 

The brunette wrinkled her nose, tilting her head.  “Of course not.”  She laughed, a light and airy sound. Infuriating in it's lightheartedness. “Aurora lives in the Rose Kingdom. You’re in the White Kingdom.  I’m Snow.”

Emma laughed. The sound ringing in her ears.  She looked up at the the girl’s earnest expression. This was ridiculous, it was a joke.  It had to be. 

 

_She’s telling the truth._

No. Emma shook her head from side to side. That was impossible.  If the girl truly believed she was Snow White, it may not have made the statement a lie, but it didn’t make it true either.

 

_Look at their clothes.  Look at the room, Swan.  You’re in a castle, for God’s sake!_

As crazy as it was, it almost made sense. 

 

Emma groaned, holding her head in her hands. “No.”

 

Outside of a story book there was no Enchanted Forest, no Snow White, and certainly no happy endings.

 

_Story book. StoryBrooke._

 

The blonde pursed her lips.  It was a troubling thought. An impossible thought. Only moments ago she had been _there..._  

Emma remembered getting to Storybrooke, that strange little town.  There was Ruby, and Granny.  She remembered the diner and the school teacher, who wasn’t “Snow”.  And the Mayor.

 

_The Queen?_

 

* * *

 

 

 " _It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Swan.”_

_Liar._

_A twist in her gut. A tingle down her spine. Emma knew the woman was lying._

_She’s not just lying.  She hates your fucking guts._

_It was crazy to think something like that.  Maybe the woman wasn’t fond of teenagers, or she didn’t like the way the blonde looked.  Maybe she was being paranoid._

_No. She hates you. She hates you and it has nothing to do with your age or the way you look._

_“I’m Regina Mills, the Mayor.” Her eyes narrowed, fake smile still perfectly placed._

_Fuck.  You haven’t even been here a day and you’ve already pissed off the Mayor.  For God’s sake, Swan.  What the hell is wrong with you?_

_“Oh… uh, wow.” Emma’s brows knitted together. She pushed an unruly lock of hair from her face.  “The mayor?”_

Nice.  Super smooth.

 

_She cleared her throat. “It’s.. an honor?” She hadn’t meant for the statement to sound so indecisive._

_To make matters worse, the entire diner had grown silent.  Conversations ceased as the room sat frozen in place.  Every eye glued to the awkward exchange.  The mayor let the moment linger, her expression unwavering._

Was I supposed to bow?

_Her gaze still fixed on Emma, the woman finally spoke, her voice cutting the silence.  “I’ll take my coffee to go, Ms. Lucas. It appears my seat has already been taken.” The sharp arch of a perfectly manicured brow._

_“I…” The blonde’s eyes widened._

_“What sort of example would I be setting asking a guest to move?”_

_“…Thanks.” Emma mumbled, not entirely sincere.  There were open seats at the counter, and open tables for that matter.  It wasn’t as if there had been a sign stating this one was reserved._

_To the blonde’s relief, Ruby quickly presented the Mayor with her order. The waitress gathered the few dollars left by the woman, eager herself to see the Mayor’s departure. Emma exhaled when the styrofoam cup was retrieved by the brunette._

_“Ms. Swan..”_

Great. What now? Just take your coffee and go, lady.

_“Here’s my card. I’m sure you’re quite a resourceful girl, but you’ll find the address to my office on the back.  I’ll have my secretary put you down for 3:30 this afternoon.”_

_Emma turned the card in her hand.  “Put me down?  Down for what?”_

_“I make it a point to know everyone in my town.”  The woman widened her lips, showing perfect white teeth.  Before walking away, she turned to the school teacher. Mary Margaret had busied herself with the half empty cup of tea in her hand, not daring to look up.  During the exchange Emma hadn’t seen her so much as breath._

_“Ms. Blanchard..”_

_Emma frowned. The school teacher looked like a mouse caught under a cat’s paw._

_“Oh! Good morning, Madame Mayor.” Mary Margaret piped up meekly._

_“Are you not making a decent salary?” The older brunette asked, ignoring the pleasantries._

_The school teacher tilted her head, her eyebrows dipping.  “N-no.. I mean yes… I mean… my salary is fine, Madame Mayor.”_

_“My apologies.” the Mayor widened her eyes, appearing a bit too surprised for it to come across as genuine. “I just assumed by the looks of that blouse that you were reduced to borrowing from Ms. Lucas’ wardrobe.” Regina paused, the corner of her lips curling into a cruel smirk as she watched Mary Margaret’s cheeks flush crimson._

_The school teacher’s hands shook, racing to the collar of her blouse. Emma really didn’t think there was anything wrong with the woman’s attire.  It was a modest, blue pastel blouse, and only the very top button was unlatched._

_“Do try to keep it professional, dear.” The Mayor advised, before opening the door. At the woman’s departure, it was as if the entire room took a collective sigh of relief.  The energy and oxygen that had evaporated, slowly glided back over the diners. Conversations filled the air as people began to enjoy their meals once again._

_“Wow.” Emma was the first to speak, still looking at the door where the woman had stood. Slowly, she turned to the waitress. “Is she always that…?”_

_“That big of a bitch? Yup.” The waitress confirmed, smacking her red lips together. “And for the record.” She added, looking over at the school teacher. “There was nothing wrong with your blouse, Mary Margaret.”_

_The brunette nodded, but she looked like a kicked puppy.  Her previously bright eyes now dull and downcast.  She pulled her arms around her chest. “I’ll just take my check, Ruby.”_

_The waitress groaned, rolling her eyes, then retrieving the woman’s bill. “If you say so, but I don’t know why you let her mess with your head like that.”_

_“No. No, I’m not. I… I really should be getting to work anyway.”_

_Ruby looked up at the clock, opening her mouth to speak, but then quickly shut it.  The waitress shook her head, walking to the register._

_“Ruby? Give me Emma’s check too.”_

_“No. You don’t have to do that!” The blonde waved her hands in protest._

_“Yeah, are you sure you can swing it? Considering your meager teacher’s salary and all.” Ruby winked, setting the checks down as she smiled mischievously._

_“I might have to borrow some clothes.” Mary Margaret laughed. Her spirits seemingly restored as she rummaged through her wallet._

_“Don’t tempt me! You know I’ve been dying to give you a makeover.”_

_“You really don’t have to do this.” Emma repeated. She appreciated it, it was an incredibly kind gesture._

 

It’s too kind. People aren’t nice without a reason.

 

_It made her uneasy. Emma didn’t want to owe the woman anything.  And she really had nothing to give._

_“Please,” Mary Margaret insisted, standing from the table.  “It was a pleasure to meet you. Hopefully I’ll see you again.”_

_“Yeah…” The blonde shifted, kicking the toe of her shoe against the backboard of the counter.  “Well, thank you.  I appreciate it.”_

_“It’s nothing, really.” The schoolteacher smiled warmly. “See you later, Ruby.”_

_“See ya.” The red head nodded, leaning over the counter with her elbows propped up._

_“I guess it was nice of her to buy you a last meal.”_

_“Last meal?”_

_“Last meal, before your meeting with the Mayor this afternoon. You know, dead man walking.” The waitress teased, sticking her tongue out._

_Emma leaned forward, palms on the counter. “About that. Why didn’t you tell me I was in her seat? Were you trying to set me up?” She hissed through clenched teeth._

_“Whoa!” Ruby threw her hands up. “Hey, that’s not my fault. No one’s ever in her seat.”_

_The waitress shrugged. “She didn’t seem too pissed about it anyway.”_

_“No, just over my entire existence.”_

_“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the dramatic type.”_

_“I’m not being dramatic.  She wants me to come to her office. Why? Am I getting arrested for stealing her seat?”_

_“Yeah, totally not dramatic.”_

_“Okay.” Emma rolled her eyes, but she offered a small smile.  “But, c’mon. That’s super weird.”_

_“Yeah it is.  No good can come of that. So obviously, you have to tell me all about it.” The redhead wiggled her brows, leaning in conspiratorially. “That is, if you survive!”_

_Emma sprinted near the coastline. Despite it being the early months of summer, the air had a crisp bite on her pale skin. It was3:45, fifteen minutes passed the time Emma was expected in the Mayor’s office. She wasn’t going. _

_Instead, Emma Swan was running. The urge had hit around the3 o’clock mark, after spending an unproductive afternoon of debate over her future. She hadn’t mustered the nerve to talk to Ruby about staying. In doing so, Emma realized she would also have to tell the waitress that she had lied. There was no Grandmother waiting for her. There wasn’t anyone waiting for her._

_Except the Mayor and maybe the Boston P.D._

_Emma needed the fresh air, the open space. She needed to clear her head. And had she not been so out of sorts, she probably would have laughed at the irony of it all. She could run around this town all day, but that wasn’t going to get her anywhere._

_She thought perhaps she was wasting time. She could just get in the bug and go._

Where? Another small town? Try another city?

_The blonde halted, leaning down with her hands on her thighs; catching her breath. She didn’t want to drive back through Boston. But she could hit New York through New Hampshire and Vermont; avoiding the scene of the crime entirely._

And waste more gas money?

_“You must be Emma Swan.” A smooth Irish brogue broke the girl’s thoughts._

_Emma snapped her head, finding the owner of the voice behind her. The man walked a few feet closer. He was young, maybe in his mid-twenties. His dark hair tousled stylishly with the wind. A juxtaposition of rugged and boyish all at once._

_“What’s it to you?” Emma wasn’t keen on strangers knowing her name. Regardless of how good looking they may be._

_“I believe the Mayor had requested your presence this afternoon.” He leaned onto one leg, stuffing a hand into his denim pocket._

_You’ve got to be kidding me._

_“You don’t look like a secretary.” Emma scanned the docks. She wondered if she could out run the Mayor’s errand boy, wondered how long he would chase after her._

_The man laughed. It wasn’t loud, or hearty, but it had depth and it sounded genuine. “And how’s a secretary supposed to look?” He asked, flashing a broad smile before clarifying. “But you’re right, I’m not. Try sheriff.”_

_“Sheriff?” Emma nearly choked.  “Are you arresting me?”_

_“Should I be?” He raised his eyebrows. Had the circumstances been different, Emma might have found it playful. Flirtatious even._

_The blonde stared, eyes wide. It seemed like a loaded question._

_“I’m simply here to retrieve you” He paused, looking the blonde over. “It seems you.. got lost?”_

_“…Yeah.”_

_Riding in a cop car wasn’t exactly Emma’s idea of a good time. Even if she wasn’t being arrested. Being escorted to see some bitch Mayor she enjoyed even less. The situation rang a little too close to, for lack of a better word, home. It was too close to everything she had been running from. But… it could have been worse._

It could always be worse. You know worse.

_The inside of the Mayor’s office was quite a contrast to the exterior of the structure. A subtle Greek revival with romantic stone pillars adorning the outside. The interior wasn't quite as welcoming, displaying a much colder décor. The woman was obviously a fan of black and white monochrome. Hard marble floors echoed each step as Emma followed the Sheriff into the foreboding room._

_The dark-haired woman sat behind a large desk. Her rigidly perfect posture making her appear almost royal as she lorded over several stacks of paper._

_“Madame Mayor,” the man announced their arrival. His strong voice sounding small inside the marble office. “It seems Ms. Swan had some trouble finding your office.”_

_Pursed lips, arched brow. The Mayor crossed her arms over her chest._

_“Well,” Regina’s eyes narrowed at the blonde, full lips forced into a smile. “It’s lucky that I sent someone to find you then, isn’t it?”_

_“It was a bit over the top.” Emma glowered. Subtle clearly wasn’t the woman’s style._

_“Was it?” The brunette asked, cocking her head sharply._

_Emma inhaled, nostrils flaring._

_“Graham,” Regina turned her attention towards the sheriff. “You’re dismissed.”_

_The blonde watched the man nod, turning on the heel of his boot as he walked through the door. She had been trying to avoid the company of any law enforcement but being left alone with this woman felt somehow more detrimental._

_The brunette pushed herself upright, her chair sliding back as she stood. Delicate fingers ran down the fabric of her tailored dress. Regina walked from behind her desk, pencil thin heels clicking on the marble floor as she closed the space between herself and the blonde._

_Emma swallowed. Perspiration gathering at her temples._

_“This may seem like a sleepy little town, Ms. Swan. But I assure you, bad things can happen here.”_

_Emma’s brow creased. Her adrenaline overriding logic. “Are you threatening me?”_

_Regina blinked, her smile widening. “Of course not, dear. I take my duties as Mayor seriously. The wellbeing of town’s residents being one of them. Likewise, as long as you remain in Storybrooke, your wellbeing is my responsibility.”_

_The two stood in silence. Green eyes staring back into unwavering dark ones. Emma doubted this woman would be troubled for a moment over her personal safety._

_Regina spoke first._

_“I think the proper response would be ‘Thank you.’” Dark eyes roamed over the blonde; searching out any resistance._

_Emma’s cheeks burned. She was sure her pale skin had flushed; betraying her rising temper. Arms hanging at her sides, fists tightening. She had a long list of words for the Mayor, none of which were an expression of gratitude._

Shut it, Swan. You know how this is going to play out.

_It was true. Emma knew the dynamics of this situation all too well. She might not have known why the woman had it out for her, but she knew an abuse of power when she saw it.  Years spent in and out of foster homes had given her plenty of education. And she knew exactly what the woman wanted._

Just tell her what she wants to hear. Get through this as quickly and as painlessly as possible.

_Emma was tired of just getting through. Dodging what pain she could and enduring what she couldn’t, it was surviving, not living. She was tired of simply making it through each day. Tired enough to steal a car and run away._

Don’t blow it. Shoot your mouth off now, and you might find yourself back in Boston.

_The blonde swallowed her pride, hoping it was a means to an end._

_“Thank you.” The words tasted bitter passing through clenched teeth._

_Regina smiled. White teeth exposed beneath full lips._

_The blonde was versed enough to know there was no misunderstanding between herself and the Mayor. She knew the dark-haired woman wasn’t interested in the truth of her feelings. But this wasn’t about honesty or gratitude. This was about obedience._

_“No need to thank me, Ms. Swan. I’m simply doing my job.”_

_Emma dug her nails into her palms, feeling the small crescent indentations. “Why am I here?”_

_“That is an excellent question.” Regina folded her arms over her chest. “A question I would love for you to answer. Why are you here, Em-ma?”_

_A tingle ran down the girl’s spine. The use of her first name catching her off guard. It was too familiar, too casual._

_“I… I’m just passing through.” Emma dug the toe of her shoe against the floor._

_Dark eyes slanted. “Are you?”_

_“…Yes.” Emma wasn’t sure what the woman was getting at. On the surface it was a straight forward enough question, but it somehow felt as if there was a double meaning._

_Regina finally nodded, uncrossing her arms._

_“Have a seat, Ms. Swan.” The woman gestured towards the leather chair in front of the marble desk._

You’re in this far. You might as well see it through.

_Emma took a seat, resting on the edge of the chair. Maybe it was habit or perhaps instinct; she felt better knowing she was ready to run if the need arose. Her eyes followed the woman, watching as she flipped through a manila folder._

_“It seems you have quite a history of… passing through.” The Mayor observed. “Four different homes in as little as one year?”_

_Green eyes grew wide, eyebrows shooting upwards. It was a punch to the gut._

_“Excuse me?” Emma gasped, feeling the acceleration in her heart beat._

_Regina didn’t comment, her eyes scanning the paper in front of her._

_“Are you-“ The blonde started, halting as dark orbs penetrated her._

_The Mayor looked over the folder._

_“Am I what, Ms. Swan?” She raised her brow. “I told you I make it a point to know everyone in my town.”_

_“My records are.. You can’t…” Emma sputtered, unable to hold onto the words she needed._

_“I can’t what, dear?” Regina tossed the open folder onto the desk, its contents splayed out for Emma to see. It was all there. Several pages of documentation on her._

 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

_The Mayor glanced down, resting her elbows on the desk as she laced her fingers together._

_“It’s sad, really. To think that any of us can just be..” Regina paused, fanning through the pages of Emma’s life. “Just be reduced to a pile of paperwork.”_

_Dark embers burned into the blonde._

_“How…?”_

_“How did I get them, or how much do I know? I think you might be more interested in the latter.”_

_Emma swallowed, her throat dry. Green eyes narrowed._

_“…How.. how much do you know?”  The blonde licked her lips._

_Regina sighed. “Enough to know that Storybrooke doesn’t need a teenage runaway and burgeoning thief in its midst. And I don’t have any proof as of yet, but I’m willing to bet that we could add grand theft auto to your resume.”_

_Emma blinked, her eyes stinging._

Don’t you dare cry.

_She cleared her throat, shaking her head. No, she wasn’t going to cry. Not here, not in front of this woman._

_“What… what are you going to do?”_

_The older woman frowned, fine lines forming around thick lips. “Aren’t you going to advocate for your innocence? Tell me how this was all a misunderstanding and you’re not to blame?”_

_Emma wrinkled her nose, the question catching her off guard enough to forget the impending incarceration._

_Regardless of what those papers read, they didn’t tell Emma’s story. They didn’t tell her story because no one cared about the truth. Aggressive. Troubled. Liar. Thief. It was all written in bold. What those papers failed to mention was why she did it. Those papers didn't explain any one of the many times she had taken what was dished out until she nearly broke. And when she finally defended herself she was labeled aggressive.  When the truth was inconvenient she had was labeled a liar. But none of that mattered. Her side of the story didn’t matter to the foster care system or the homes of foster parents. And it certainly wasn’t going to matter to the woman sitting in front of her._

_“Why?” The blonde snarled, crossing her arms. “Nothing I say is going to make any difference.”_

_To Emma’s surprise and confusion, the Mayor’s face softened. Dark eyes darting from the girl back to the desk. For a brief moment the woman looked lost to her own thoughts. And then, like a flick of a switch, it was gone. The cool façade firmly in place._

_“I suppose that’s true, Ms. Swan.” Regina continued, her voice lacking some of its venom. “As for what I’m going to do with this information, the answer is nothing.”_

_“Yeah right.” Emma leaned forward. Now that all the cards were on the table she didn’t see how she had anything to lose. She was going to jail regardless._

Prison, Swan. You’re going to prison.

_“I’m not naïve enough to believe you forced me in here just so you could show me your mercy. I’m done playing your head games. You wanna call the cops?” The blonde paused long enough to shove the phone towards the older woman. “There you go. Call them.”_

_The Mayor stared at the girl. She leaned against the back of her seat, her casual demeanor that much more infuriating._

_“That won’t be necessary.” The woman stated, her voice calm and even._

_Emma glared._ _“Then what do you want? Everything has a price. What’s yours?”_

_Regina snickered as if the girl had uttered some sort of private joke. “It’s simple really. All I want is for you to go.”_

_Green eyes searched the woman’s face. Suspicious of the simplicity. “That’s it?”_

_“Yes.” The Mayor nodded, pushing her seat back to open a drawer. “And I’ll make it easy for you.” She pulled out a brown packaging envelope, setting it down on the surface in front of the blonde._

_“What is it?” Emma eyed the package, wondering what more the woman could have dug up on her._

_“Open it.”_

_Biting her lip, the girl picked up the envelope. Investigating the weight in her hands. It wasn’t light, but it wasn’t heavy either. Emma ran her fingers over the seal, picking at the edges until she could fold back the flap._

_Green eyes widened as the contents revealed themselves; a stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills.  Most likely more money than Emma had ever held combined._

_“It’s a thousand dollars.” Regina continued. “You may count it if you wish.”_

_The girl raised her head, giving a small shake._

_The Mayor shrugged. “I trust this will help you make your decision?”_

* * *

 

 

 

 

“I’m not crazy.” Emma whispered, more to herself. 

 

“No one’s saying you are, dear.  But...” the woman paused, her eyes searching the blonde’s face.  She sat gingerly on the side of the bed, adjusting the long skirt of her dress before continuing.  “Do you remember what realm you are from? Perhaps starting at the beginning will help us all understand.”

 

“Realm?  I’m...I’m not from any realm.  I’m from Boston.”

 

At this both woman turned to one another.  Perplexed eyes questioning the other.

 

Snow spoke first, tilting her head idiotically. “Boston? I’ve never heard of that realm.” She said it in the patronizing way one might speak to a fibbing child.  Like she didn’t believe the statement but had enough manners not to say so outright.    

 

The older woman turned back to Emma, ignoring the Princess’ comment. “So, this..Boston..that’s where you were last, then?”

 

“Well… no. I went to Maine.  I’m _in_ Maine.” Emma gritted her teeth, frustrated with their lack of understanding.

 

“Hmm.. I see.” The woman’s brow creased with worry. Patiently, she tried again. “What’s the last thing you remember before…before you were here?”

 

Emma’s brow creased.  Of course, she could remember where she was. She wasn’t mental.  She wasn’t the one that thought this was some fairytale.

 

“I…” The blonde started, then stopped abruptly.  She licked her lips, her mind searching for the last thing she remembered before landing, for lack of a better word, inside the castle walls. Memories fluttered just out of her grasp.  It was like a picture reel being clicked too quickly.  She couldn’t hold onto any one image long enough to make sense of it.

 

_Think, Swan._

A tight lump formed in Emma’s throat; something bitter she didn’t want to swallow. A warning bell sounded in the back of her head.  It was as if the answer was right there, just inches from her grasp.  And the Queen, the mayor... whoever she was, had everything to do with why she was here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers,  
> First, thank you, as always, for reading! I truly hope you enjoy where this story is going, and I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts. So please review! Anyway, I'm hoping to get through Emma's flashbacks in the next chapter so we can start to spend more time in the Enchanted Forest. I really wanted to get through it in this one, but the chapter was already so long I just didn't think I would be able to do the story justice. I hope to have the next one up by next week! Thank you again!


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